My shoulders bunched. He wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t already told myself at three in the morning when I couldn’t sleep.
But nah… she started this. Not me.
Babygirl should’ve kept her hands to herself instead of trying to handle me. She fucked up when she grabbed me like that. I don’t care how she meant it — that’s all it took. One touch, one moment, and something in me woke up from a deep slumber.
Lighter meets fuel.
And now I couldn’t put it back down even if I tried.
That was on her, not me.
Welcome to the point of no return.
I was locked onto her now, tight.
“I just want to know her. And I wanna make sure when I step to her, it’s worth her time and mine.”
“Then introduce yourself like a normal person.”
“It sounds like you’re calling me a stalker.”
“You said it, not me,” he laughed, before continuing, “But real shit, she dope I can’t lie. I think you’re afraid of rejection, boss.”
Was that what this was? I didn’t even scare easily. But being rejected by her scared me into hiding in the shadows until I stepped up to her. And also, the issue of the blogs being in our business could ruin my chance before I even get it.
I didn’t make moves half-heartedly or on a whim. So if my heart was set on something that was anointed, that’s just what it was. I’d been single for years and had encountered plenty of women, but since Devyn, not one had made me feel like this. Whatever was between us was electric. It didn’t matter if I played ball or fixed sinks — that shit would’ve hit the same.
Her little black-on-black Stinger slid into her spot. Clean and sleek. It fit her. I couldn’t even lie.
“From where I’m sitting, you’re so caught up in making sure everything’s perfect that you’re not seeing how this looks. You can’t tell if this is an obsession or some real shit or because you miss Devyn.”
His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. Nah. This wasn’t about Devyn. I knew what that felt like—the guilt, the replaying, the what-ifs that kept me up for years after she died.
This was different. This was about how Halima looked at me at that fire. How she'd grabbed my shirt and told me I didn't run shit. How she'dwalked away like I was just another nigga when I'd never been "just another" anything to anyone.
I wanted her. Not to replace what I lost. Not to rewrite some tragic ending. She made me feel something I thought got buried with Devyn. But now I felt the possibility that maybe Devyn wasn’t the end of my story… just the woman sent to prepare me for whoever was.
I knew life was full of suffering. I grew up in it. But I also had a praying grandmother—one who knew the Bible, had an intimate relationship with God, and made sure we did too. Everything in this life is a lesson and a blessing, even when the pain brings you to your knees, the only place you can find refuge. Devyn’s death was tragic. I wanted to go with her, but Devyn was gone, and my heart was beating again after one encounter with Halima.
Langston was right again. I’d been so focused on watching her, on making sure I came correct, that I’d crossed lines I wouldn’t have even considered before I met her.
But I’d cross them again if it meant getting her attention.
“One more week,” I said finally. “That’s it. The police said they’re close to finding Cassie. Once she’s in custody, I’ll step to her directly. Face to face. No more games.”
“And if they don’t find Cassie in a week?”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t know. I didn’t want to make promises of turning my attraction off or my craziness down. Shit, that was just me being real with myself. Again, Halima started this fire burning within me.
Langston shook his head. “I’m telling you now, this is gonna blow up in your face, eventually. And when it does, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I waved him off because I wasn’t tryna hear that shit, especially now with her stepping out with her bougie dog bouncing beside her. That was the kind of man I was turning into, one who wanted to learn her routines, her favorite bagel order, take care of her dog, and make sure she was happy. All that shit had me leaning in.
She stepped out in a fitted sand-colored jogger set, Ugg boots, and gold jewelry flashing when the sun hit it. A black ball cap sitting low across her lashes, stitched with “Really Her.” Nothing loud. Just comfortable, fine, unbothered while she ran errands today.
And I couldn’t look away.
Her phone was on speaker. Her friend Tessa’s voice carried out, loud as hell.
